He's Not My Type (The Vancouver Agitators, #4)

by Meghan Quinn

“Holmes isn’t happy, and he doesn’t have a lot of sex,” Posey says out of fucking nowhere. Uh . . . what? Blakely brings her attention to me with a tilt of her head. “Not having a lot of sex, Holmes?” Kill me. Kill me right fucking now. “I mean, he has sex,” Posey interjects. “But not like the other guys, you know? He’s not a virgin if that’s what you’re thinking. Far from a virgin. Although there was a point in time when I wondered if he even had genitals⁠—” “Shut . . . up,” Silas mutters, thankfully. “Right.” Posey clears his throat. “Anyway, he has a spare bedroom, and he’s not part of a happy couple, and for all we know, he doesn’t have an infant, so you know, you could stay with him.” What the actual fuck is he doing? Blakely, stay with me? I can barely look at her or talk to her. Sharing a living space would probably send me into a nervous breakdown. “Are you his landlord?” Blakely teases. “More like his hairy godmother.” Posey makes himself laugh . . . and only himself.